Encounter with Tuco, Vieralyn, and Duhnen
Tuco Sandstone arrives from Lightholder Crossroads - Interdistrict Carriage Hub Tuco Sandstone has arrived. Faye Zahir is sitting on a stool by a table alone, with her hood covering almost all of her face. On the table before her is a cup of fresh milk placed on it. Tuco Sandstone strides into the tavern, his dark eyes sweeping the patrons before moving to the bar, his armor clanking as he moves. He pulls the helmet off his head and sets it on the bar as he waits for the bartender. Faye Zahir only briefly glances at the newcomer under her hood. Another guard. She slowly turns her eyes back at her milk and raises her hands to hold it and drinks it some. Tuco Sandstone waits for the bartender, but when the man doesn't wait on him quickly enough, he leans across the bar. "'Ey! I need an ale, an' I need it now," he growls in a surly tone. Faye Zahir raises an eyebrow as she turns her eyes at the loudly growling man. She slightly sighs as she turns her eyes back at her milk, thinking for a while before she sips more. The man behind the bar doesn't react to the Blade's surly order, other than to fill a mug from a tap in the wall. He plops the mug in front of the armored man before turning back to his other tasks. Scowling at the bartender for a moment before picking up the mug, Tuco turns his back to the bar to look back over the tavern before taking a long draw from the mug. Faye Zahir finishes her cup of milk, and slowly places it back on the table. She sighs, and closes her eyes as she leans a bit on the wooden wall beside her. She still keeps her hood to cover all her head, though, as if she doesn't want to show anyone of her face. Vieralyn arrives from Lightholder Crossroads - Interdistrict Carriage Hub Vieralyn has arrived. Tuco Sandstone's eyes are drawn to the hooded figure, though he doesn't hear her sigh over the din of the tavern. He takes another deep draw from the mug before making his way over. "Bit warm in 'ere fer that," he observes, gesturing with a gauntleted hand at the hood. "You hidin' from someone?" Faye Zahir is sitting on a tiny stool nearby a table, sitting alone, and wearing heavy articles of clothing and hoods to cover nearly all of her skin. She slowly turns her eyes at Tuco, yet her eyes are still hidden under the shadow of her hood, and she speaks, "No, I am waiting for a man." She speaks, and by the voice you can judge that she is no older than her early teen. Vieralyn saunters into the tavern's main gathering area at a leisurely, measured pace, her lethargic eyes sweeping lackadaisically over those gathered within. She skids to a halt near one of the tables close to the entrance, peering down at the wooden surface. "Mm .." She studies the furniture intently, one of her lengthy fingernails incessantly tapping against her pale chin. Tuco Sandstone regards the hooded figure quizzically, surprised at her voice. "I'm a man," he observes before taking another drink from his mug. He wipes a bit of foam from his upper lip before continuing. "Bit young fer a place like this, aren't you? You lost?" he asks before turning his eyes to the newcomer for a moment. Faye Zahir sighs, as if she's trying to keep herself from telling 'go bother someone else' type of expression, "No, I am not lost, and I know where I am. Thank you for your concern, anyway, Guard. I am Faye, of house Zahir." Vieralyn releases a quiet little exhalation of air from her lightly-freckled stub of a nose, gingerly lowering herself down onto one of the chairs of her selected table. She lets her head slowly shift towards the man who observed her, offering a vague semblance of a smile. Her green eyes narrow reflexively, the curly black fringe 'round them fluttering a smidgen. Tuco Sandstone snorts into his mug. "A Noble wench. Should've guessed," he says wryly. "I'll leave you to yer waitin', then," he says. He gives a courteous nod to the newcomer as she sits, then moves back to the bar where his helmet still sits. He drains the mug and then sets it back on the bar. "Gimme another," he growls at the bartender. Faye Zahir sighs a bit as she turns her eyes back at her empty cup, and slowly closes her eyes as she takes a deep breath. Vieralyn lets out another meek 'mm,' her slitty gaze following the man for a moment as he goes along. She lets her eyes reluctantly shut, bringing one of her feet up to rest atop a white-clad knee. She wraps her arms idly around her midsection, firmly crossing the spindly appendages under the swell of her chest. The bartender moves down to Tuco long enough to refill his mug from the tap on the back wall, then goes back to the other customers. Tuco lifts the fresh mug off the bar, sniffing the brew before taking yet another drink. He sighs contently, then turns again and rests his back against the edge of the bar as he looks out over the establishment. Vieralyn's eyes flicker back open, the languid green oculars sweeping slowly 'round the environs. She blinks firmly -- only once! -- her gaze darting over at the commotion near the doorway. She softly clears her throat, watching the two individuals enter, her head leaning instinctively back. She scrunches up her nose, examining the Lordly-looking fellow for a spell before glancing away once more. Faye Zahir remains silent from an remote table, watching the table from under her hood. She seems in a deep thought, and fortunately no one is eagerly trying to distract her for now. Tuco Sandstone takes another drink, glancing to the door before settling onto a stool, which groans under the weight of his large frame and heavy iron armor. Vieralyn sighs dramatically, rising abruptly from her seat and slinking over towards the bar. Upon reaching her destination, she plops carefully down upon an unclaimed stool, a few yards away from the male patron's position. She rests her elbows upon the bar, taking her chin in both hands and staring vacantly down at the counter-top. Duhnen Seamel arrives from Lightholder Crossroads - Interdistrict Carriage Hub Duhnen Seamel has arrived. Tuco Sandstone is seated on a stool at the bar, his helmet sitting on the bartop, a mug of ale in one hand. Vieralyn has just moved from a table to the bar near him. One of Tuco's bushy black eyebrows quirks as he watches the woman's theatrical sigh and her movement to the bar. "Problems?" he asks her conversationally. Faye Zahir is sitting on a stool near an empty table, enjoying her solitude, wearing heavy clothing and oversized hood to cover almost all of her tiny figure. On the table before her is an empty cup. Vieralyn raises her meticulously-tapered eyebrows, her head cocking off to one side to peer at the man speaking to her. "Nothing in particular, sir. Just a bit restless tonight .." She raises her shoulders in a lazy half-shrug, lowering them soon after. Her eyes sweep leisurely down the male's frame, taking particular note of all the armor, before snapping back up to his countenance. Solas must need to grease the hinges on the door, because they squeak slightly as they open, providing entry for the Emperor's Hawk, currently wearing his heavy obsidian mail. Then again, most likely the noise from the door is hard to hear over the clanks and creaks that come from Duhnen as he walks. Faye Zahir slowly turns her eyes at the newcomer, a Seamel nobleman. She raises a hand at her hood to secure it tightly, yet she nods politely at the man as he enters. However she does not try to do anything to get his attention, for it might be a really bad idea for someone like her. Tuco Sandstone nods his squarish head at the woman as he takes another drink from his mug. "I know the feelin'," he comments. "A few good drinks and I settle right down," he explains with a raise of the mug. The clanking armor draws his attention and he looks over at the newcomer, studying the expensively equipped man before offering a courteous bow of his head. Armored men tend exude a certain presence in the area they currently inhabit, and the Guardian at the bar is no exception to that fact. The Surrector pulls the crested helmet off his head as he takes in Tuco. Returning his nod, he approaches he and Vieralyn. Vieralyn gives a quick nod of her own at the man's response, a small grin tugging at her lips. "Always a good idea, indeed, sir!" She giggles quietly, rapidly drumming her nails against her cheekbones. She glances over her shoulder at the noble-looking man, profoundly inclining her head before hastily jerking her gaze back towards the counter-top. Faye Zahir sighs a bit as the armored royal didn't notice her, a sigh of relief, and she goes back to her thought as she secures her hood almostly obsessively. She slightly waves a hand at the nearby waitress to ask another cup of milk as she shortly glances at Duhnen once more. Tuco Sandstone stands from his stool at the approach of the newcomer. "Good evenin', m'lord," he says in courteous greeting, seemingly a bit uncomfortable. Duhnen nods his head to Tuco, giving him a once over. "Guardian. Good 'eve to you." In turn, he looks to Vieralyn, smiling faintly to her, before turning his attention to the bar and the mug Tuco was drinking from. "Mm," he murmurs, reaching to lift it and peer within. Vieralyn glances over as the man rises up to greet the new arrival, standing suddenly herself and swirling around to face the noble-looking man. She plucks up the fabric of her dress, lifting it a tad and offering an obedient, extenuated curtsey to him. "Milord!" She offers, simply, before slowly straightening her posture, proceeding to quietly study Duhnen. Duhnen Seamel unequips Obsidian Helm. Tuco Sandstone looks to the mug, then the armored man. "Just common ale, m'lord. Nothin' too fancy, but it suits me alright," he explains with a shrug. Faye Zahir quietly waits while the waitress brings her another fresh cup of milk. She slowly opens her purse to pay for the milk, and picks up the cup with her hands as she sips a little from the cup. Her attention shifts to the royal general for a short while as he obviously not just coming to quietly drink his beverage. She slowly puts her cup down on the table, and sighs a bit as she stands up. Seeming almost faintly amused by Vieralyn's actions, Duhnen winks at her as he replaces the mug back on the bar top. Then it's back to business. "Are you newly enlisted, Guardian?" he asks, arching an eyebrow as he turns back to Tuco. "You know, of course, that drinking alcohol while in the armor is stictly not allowed." Tuco Sandstone nods his head. "My apologies, m'lord. Just stopped off for a nightcap as I came off-duty. Didn't know it would be a problem. It won't happen again, m'lord," he says with a bow. Vieralyn lets a small hint of a smirk play upon her lips, before she settles back down onto her stool. Her legs cross down near the ankles, hands clasping together and resting contently upon her lap. She tilts her chin down, peering at the admonished soldier from the corners of her tired-looking eyes. Faye Zahir glances at the guardsman and general once more, before she slowly walks to the stairs. Not hurrying, or not trying to be unseen, she just walks up on the stairs to go to her room and take a rest. Duhnen nods his head at the explaination, before suddenly smiling. "Lucky for you, they serve some fine cider here. Not the hard kind, but it's still just as good. How about you get a warm cup of that?" He readjusts how the helm is tucked under his arm, before adding, "Your name?" Tuco Sandstone nods his head. "Cider it is, m'lord," he says with a sheepish grin. "Tuco Sandstone," he introduces himself with a respectful incline of his head. Vieralyn raises up one of her feet, then brings it back down, repeating this process a few times. She keeps her head angled downwards, though her eyebrows rise a hair, so she can examine the nobleman once more. She brings a hand away from her lap, absent-mindedly stroking one of her long bangs with two slender digits. "Well, Guardian Sandstone, I'll remember you. You cut a fine figure in that armor, I must say. Just keep your head clear, hm?" Duhnen replies conversationally, before nodding his head. He gives Vieralyn an appreciative look, before grinning at her and turning away to find a table. Tuco Sandstone bows to the royal again. "Thank you, m'lord," he says, relief in his voice. "I shall do so." He pushes the half-empty mug away from himself and standing. He looks to Vieralyn. "I think I had best call this a night, m'lady. I trust you'll find a cure for your restlessness?" Vieralyn swallows quietly as Duhnen turns 'round, though her tongue does manage to sneak its way out from her mouth to drag itself along her thick carmine lips. She blinks, her attention snapping back to Tuco as he speaks to her. "Oh! Very good, sir." She grabs one of her chunky bangs between her fingers, swaying it across her face as she continues, "I'll try! Girl never knows what she might happen 'pon to amuse herself, mm?" She giggles, once, before allowing her eyes to strategically drift away from the soldier once more. Duhnen wanders about, until finally locating a free, if not completely clear table. But, hey, it's a busy tavern. Drawing a seat, he lowers himself carefully into it, pushing away some of the empty mugs to a clear spot on the surface. With a last bow to Vieralyn, a courteous nod to the General, and a curious glance at the hooded girl, Tuco makes his way out of the tavern. Faye Zahir slowly turns her eyes at the royal as he walks to her table and takes a seat. Nodding her head at him with a polite manner, she speaks, in an obvious child's voice, "Greetings, milord." Vieralyn clears her throat quietly as she watches the soldier leave, standing again and resting one of her feet on the crossbars of the stool. She sighs quietly, arching her back and peering blankly up at the ceiling. She releases her hold on the single red bang, tightly crossing her arms under her chest. She presses upward upon her bust, frowning a bit, before glancing back down and doing a cursory examination of the tavern's occupants. "Mm-mm," she mutters, more to herself than anyone, it would seem. The Seamel Duke was in the process of pulling off his mail gauntlets to rest them on the table alongside of his helmet, when he looks over to Faye at her greeting. "Hello," he greets, seemingly a bit surprised. He leans his head forward ever so slightly to try to get a look under her hood. "How goes...Miss?" Faye Zahir raises a hand on the hood as she speaks, "Forgive my rudeness, milord. My face is horribly disfigured by an accident when I was very young...and I do not prefer to show it to others." She, however shows a friendly smile on her lips under her hood, "I am doing well, thank you for asking." "I knew a certain carpenter, once. Good man, though he was burnt badly by a fire," Duhnen relates, pushing out one of the other chairs at the table with his foot, and gesturing for her to sit. "It never bothered me, since I knew that the measure of a man, or woman, is not determined by their face." Vieralyn drags a hand through her loose hair, stepping toward the table where Duhnen sits, her smallish shoes clicking loudly -- perhaps even obnoxiously, depending upon the listener! -- against the tavern's floor. She stops a few yards from the nobleman's table, taking no qualms with shoving against a few patrons here and there on her way over. She stares down at the floor, stubbornly tapping a foot, though she doesn't impose herself upon anyone just yet. Faye Zahir sighs a bit as she nods, "I understand that you're not a person who judges people by their appearance, but a woman has to defend her own honor, milord." She bites her lip as she speaks, "Please, forgive me." Vieralyn lets out another little 'mm,' slowly craning her neck to the side to peer off towards the source of the commotion. "Lots of big, burly ..? Oh, my .. oh my!" She flutters her eyelashes, chuckling quietly, before turning her attention to the door. She frowns, furrowing her delicately-molded brow, before looking back toward the table she stands determinedly near. She gives off a theatric sigh, following it up with an airy yawn. Duhnen would respond, but all the ruckus caused by the paniced man draws his attention, quite naturally. The Surrector stares blankly as the man vanishes into the kitchen, and his words, and those he was reported as saying, cause the Seamel to rise to his feet. "Please pardon me for just a moment," he mutters to Faye, before he glances to Vieralyn and smiles distractedly. "Please take a seat, Mistress," he offers to her, gathering up his helm, before he makes his way to the door. Vieralyn curls her lower lip back over her teeth, giving a perky bout of nods to Duhnen. ".. 'Course, milord!" She watches him head towards the door, then glances down at her fingernails, moving fluidly over to an empty seat at the table. She pulls up her dress a scant bit, then sits down upon the chair, drumming her nails excitedly against the table-top. Faye Zahir slowly turns her eyes at Vieralyn, nodding at her in a polite manner as she offers a friendly smile, but she doesn't speak much and turns her attention back at her cup of half-filled milk as she goes back to a deep thought. Duhnen gently pushes by a few people to reach the door, opening it and stepping half out, and looking around the crossroads. He calls out something, presumably to one of the everpresent Blades patrols. Vieralyn marginally covers her mouth with a single thin finger, yawning again, an eyebrow raising at Faye. She offers a belated fragment of a smile in return, though she soon frowns, dropping her hands and resting them on her thighs, turning her head 'round to gaze off towards the nobleman. She blinks, watching him from afar. Occasionally a random patron will block her view; this always causes a flaring of her nostrils, if one were perceptive enough to notice. Faye Zahir slowly shifts her attention to the woman, and she speaks in a silent, yet childlike tone, "I am Faye. Nice to meet you, lady." She shows a friendly smile on her lip under her hood. Someone approaches the door to the tavern from outside, and it may be possible to catch an occational glimpse of armor on the figure. The Surrector and he share a few words, before parting again. Duhnen steps back into the tavern, closing the door, and making his way back to the table. "Vieralyn. How do ya do, darling Faye?" The fiery-haired one turns her gaze back to Faye as she courteously replies, matching the other girl's smile with a broad one of her own. She rubs her hands gently along her thighs, glancing up as Duhnen approaches again, her head tilting submissively down once more. Faye Zahir smiles a bit, her voice somewhat less in tension than before as she speaks, "I'm fine. And....." she stops her words as she turns her eyes at approaching Duhnen, and goes silent again. Duhnen doesn't offer an explaination in regards to the man. He just shakes his head as he retakes the seat, setting the helm back on the table. "Well," he states, sighing, before smiling pleasantly to Faye and then to Vieralyn. It is the Fourth hour by the Light on Lanternglow, the 2nd day of Lightfading in the year 625. Vieralyn lets her smile increase in terms of intensity, showing a good portion of her teeth now, though she keeps her chin angled down. "Everything good, I hope, milord?" She quietly clears her throat, leaning forward and pressing herself up against the table's edge, her gaze wholly fixated on Duhnen once again. Faye Zahir slowly opens her lips, "I hope it wasn't a bad news, milord." She slowly lowers her hands on her thighs folded together, with her back straight and her legs together to make a perfect woman's posture. However staying in that position, even for an experienced lady like her, is kinda like a torture when the stool is not so very comfortable for her. "Yes, you don't need to worry," Duhnen reassures the pair, giving them both a considering look, before chuckling. "Look at the two of you. You'd think we were dining with the Emperor." He gestures to Faye. "I promise I won't scold if you relax how you sit..." And then he grins to Vieralyn. "And you don't need to keep your eyes angled away. I swear you won't burn if you look directly upon me." Vieralyn lets herself slump down a bit in her chair, stretching her legs out under the table, falling prey to a long (though quiet) fit of giggles. "Yessir!" She slips her hands under her bottom, slowly swaying from side to side on her chair. She bats her eyelashes, perking her head up to peer straight at Duhnen. "Not to argue, milord .. but I very well might burn up! My skin's so delicate, y'see, it turns all red pretty easy when I .. see somethin' I like .." She smirks, her voice growing softer and softer in timbre as her words draw to a nervous close. Faye Zahir slightly blushes as she shakes her head, "It is all right with me, milord, but anyway thank you for your concern." she tries to hide her obvious embarassment as she raises her hands to pick up her milk and drink it only a small bit, making her dried lips somewhat wet. Duhnen laughs at that, winking mischevously at Vieralyn. "No need to get nervous, Miss. A pretty girl like yourself shouldn't be worried that someone's not going to enjoy you looking at them." He leans back in the seat a bit, adding to both of them, "I'm Duhnen Seamel. A pleasure." Faye Zahir nods politely as she speaks, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Surrector Duhnen. I've heard of many things about you from my father." Vieralyn inclines her head momentarily in a half-hearted nod. "Much obliged, sir. Too kind!" She flits her gaze over to Faye for a spell, before switching quickly back to Duhnen, her tongue idly lapping at her upper lip a few times. "Seamel? Charmed, truly, sir. Vieralyn! I've known some Seamels before, I believe, milord .." "Only good things, I should hope," Duhnen returns to Faye, smiling at the girl. "Who is your father, if I may ask? I've met him before? He certainly never introduced me to his daughter." Skilled at carrying on two conversations at once, apparently, he grins over to Vieralyn. "Mistress Vieralyn," he confirms. "I've no doubt you've met some of us, yes. We tend to ride around doing non-noble things, and making a scene." Faye Zahir shakes her head, "I guess he never met you, milord. And even if he met you, he wouldn't mention a daughter whose face is too terrible to show others." She sighs a bit as she lowers her gaze, going silent. Tapping one foot slowly against the floor, Vieralyn offers a slight smirk to the nobleman, a mixture of a chuckle and a quiet moan accompanying the gesture. "Really, now? So I wonder if .. Surrector Duhnen gets enjoyment outta' such pursuits, too? If I can be so bold as ta' ask, 'course!" She raises her eyebrows again, adding, curiously: "'Ave you heard of me, possibly, from some of your kin?" "I'd never do /anything/ improper," Duhnen teases, grinning widely at Viera. "And, forgive me, but no. I haven't heard your name mentioned. But maybe I just wasn't listening for it." He shrugs and looks back to Faye. "Now...don't say things like that." Faye Zahir sighs a bit as she bites her lip, "Forgive me if I was rude, milord. Maybe I am a bit....tired." She slowly stands up and nods at him politely as she speaks, "If you would not mind it, I want to ask you if I can go back to my room and take a rest." Vieralyn allows herself to give Duhnen a small wink. "Right, right! 'Suppose that means .. I have to work harder, maybe." She shrugs, letting her eyes droop closed. "Speakin' of work .. it is awfully late. Hum." She frowns, her eyes opening again, the dark green orbs moving back to study Faye as she rises up. Duhnen nods his head at Faye, rising politely to his feet. "Of course I wouldn't keep you from your rest, Mistress. Have yourself a good night?" Faye Zahir nods her head in a proper manner as she speaks, "Thank you, milord. Have a good day." She nods at Vieralyn too, and slowly turns to go to the stairs to walk up. Category:Logs